


All We Do Is Drive

by oneforyourfire



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 10:52:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7712134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforyourfire/pseuds/oneforyourfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And this is, realistically speaking, their very last week together. (post-college road trip au)</p>
            </blockquote>





	All We Do Is Drive

**Author's Note:**

> a double crosspost, from deerofthedawn 2015 and my own lj comm

They've only been driving 20 minutes when Kyungsoo passes out with an unceremonious thud against the window. Heavy and loud, but apparently not enough to rouse him, and Lu Han stifles a laugh, turns the radio completely off as Kyungsoo’s cheek slides against the glass.

He hadn't been able to sleep well for the past two days—nervous first because of graduation, then because of _this_. Kyungsoo had been the neon blue and static drone of infomercials late late into the night, the hum of a coffee machine much too early in the morning. And the wear of it is obvious now in his bruised eyelids, lined face, his body giving him away long before his words do.

Smiling, affectionate, Lu Han fishes in the backseat one-armed, groping clumsily around their sleeping bags, cooler for a pillow, a blanket, and Kyungsoo curls into them immediately.

It's always been easy with him, quiet with him, intuitive and low-maintenance, need to know with him, Kyungsoo honestly never really letting on how he feels, and Lu Han never really feeling put out by this fact. Kyungsoo isn't good with words, but neither is Lu Han, and in their silence, their tacit agreements, they find something perfect.

They work together, quiet and easy and occasionally affectionate, occasionally comforting, and Lu Han watches Kyungsoo's sleeping profile in his periphery with a certain familiar fondness.

Kyungsoo looks so much softer like this, small, delicate, maybe almost beautiful. In slumber, the slope of his cheek and the plush pucker of his lips is not undercut with the steel of his dark eyes, the hard cut of his jaw, the bite of words. Sleeping Kyungsoo isn't striving to prove anything to the world, just just just existing, his breathing deep and even, the flutter of his eyelids soft. His lips part with a quiet sigh, and Lu Han is just briefly enraptured.

Because there's something about him still—especially right now—that makes Lu Han want to touch him, squeeze and cradle and maybe even kiss, soft and slow and sweet, but he refrains, as he always has. Knowing better, as he has since a newly-introduced Kyungsoo had tensed at the arm that Lu Han had haphazardly thrown around his shoulders.

And Lu Han's been staring too long, has to tear his eyes back towards the road, the endless stretches of asphalt, his hands tight on the decorative polka-dot steering wheel, fingers tapping an absent tattoo.

 

They’ve been roommates for 4 years, quiet and easy and constant through the chaos of college. And Kyungsoo is—has been, will have been—steady and present through it all in a way that makes—has made it, will have made— it easy to take him for granted. His small, prickly, quiet fond roommate a sort of muted constant in his life, Kyungsoo has seen him through the jitters of finals caffeine ruins, the achey aftermaths of drunken revelry, the awful growing pains and stumbling blocks of youth and adulthood. And Lu Han, Lu Han has seen him through it, as well.

Kyungsoo’s been good to him, too, throughout those 4 years. And yes, Chanyeol is right, Kyungsoo can be off-putting at times, but he's brusque more from awkwardness than malice. He just has to trust you. He just has to open up. And Kyungsoo shows his fondness in other ways. Lu Han has been subject to his quiet affections many times throughout those four years.

He's an extra mug of coffee on their kitchen island on Monday mornings, rice porridge on hungover Fridays and Saturdays, popcorn and soft laughs on movie marathons, Lu Han's clothes washed and folded for him when Kyungsoo has time. Kyungsoo's the white noise of another set of footsteps, a disembodied singing voice in the shower, extra slippers at his doorway. And right now, Kyungsoo is a silent, sleeping partner of crime through this Lu Han’s post-grad self-discovery road trip.

And this is, realistically speaking, their very last week together.

Lu Han, a month ago attempting to tide himself through the crippling weight of his very last semester, giving himself something to look forward to post-finals, post-graduation, but pre-freak out about what the future holds, he'd promised himself this. Wanting to see more, further, _be one with nature_ as he explored more of the state he's called home for the past 22 years. And Kyungsoo had wanted to, too, understanding Lu Han's sudden ache and wanderlust because they're similar enough maybe to have these overlapping needs.

It's only 11 hours to reach the Oregon state line, hardly a road trip in itself, but Kyungsoo had been intrigued. Armed with his smartphone, Google Chrome tabs about the best natural sites in California, along with information about the shortest routes, the cheapest motels, he'd charted out a meandering route, his small fingers skating over Lu Han's creased map. He'd used the last of his leftover reading tabs, marking the days with his neat scrawl. 7 days, Kyungsoo had decided, them making the most of every single one.

They'll part ways a little past the border. Kyungsoo will take the Klamath Falls Greyhound up towards Seattle, his new job, his new apartment, and Lu Han will drive back, hopefully the better, the lighter, but not the lonelier for it.

Lu Han’s already cried for others. Minseok, Jongdae, Chanyeol, Jaehyo, Joohyun, Yixing. He cries ugly and heavy and pathetic, and he refuses to let Kyungsoo be the cause of even more tears. No, Lu Han will drive him to the Greyhound station, maybe even give him a hug, and Kyungsoo will—as Minseok Jongdae, Chanyeol, Jaehyo, Joohyun, Yixing—move on with his life. As Lu Han figures out his own course of action.

Lu Han focuses on the road.

 

It takes only another 10 minutes to arrive, another 5 to pay for parking, an all day pass, find a spot, and Lu Han, strangely sentimental, wakes Kyungsoo much too gruffly, overcompensating or distracting himself, thinking past the flare of emotion as Kyungsoo blinks up at him with a cute furrowed brow, a cuter frown.

Sturtevant Falls is their first stop, starting light and easy for Kyungsoo's sake—3 miles, none too steep, manageable for the out of shape, Lu Han quips as a sweaty Kyungsoo glares, huffs, his dusty sneakers dragging over the gravel along the path. The Southern California heat catching up with them after a while, they both remove their tshirts, Kyungsoo shy enough to drape his strategically so as to cover most of his chest and stomach.

Kyungsoo had brought a Polaroid camera for the sake of record-keeping, and he insists that Lu Han slow down so they they can actually enjoy the scenery, stare up at the looming rocks, drink in the lush green trees, note all the signs urging them to take care of the earth, snapping the occasional picture, shoving the developed print into his backpack as Lu Han teases.

It takes them a good hour and a half to reach the waterfall, both a little breathless, a little flushed, in need of heavy gulps from their water bottles as they stare up at the rushing waters.

And it's beautiful, worth it, the exertion, the faint ache in his legs, the sweat kissing his collarbone.

It's busy at this time of day, crowded with children, people his age, older hikers, but Lu Han feels completely alone somehow, consciousness focusing in on the harsh cut of stone, the violent rush of water, even as he registers the laughter, the chatter, the snap of camera phones in his periphery. He tugs out his own phone to record the moment after a while, squinting at golden twinkle of sunlight, gasping as he drinks it all in.

And yes, he'd been seeking this, the goosebumps that race up his arms, the prickle of something potent up the nape of his neck.

At his side, Kyungsoo gasps, too. Staring as Lu Han does for the longest time, longer than Lu Han. Quiet and pensive, hesitant to move, compelled into motion only when Lu Han elbows him playfully, urges him to take a picture, it will last longer.

Smiling ruefully, Kyungsoo does, then takes initiative, touches first as he takes Lu Han's hand in his. He pulls him into the water.

Lu Han is more aware of the other people now, more aware still as Kyungsoo's fingers thread a little unsteadily through his, but Lu Han ignores the muted flare of panic, the more muted flare of hope, as they peel off their shoes, socks, sit back against rocks to wade in the water. They're pressed close together but still focused on the sight, enraptured.

They didn't bring food, and it's that that finally urges them away, both stumbling, laughing as they attempt to stand.

The trip back to the car, drive towards food seem shorter somehow, in spite of their wet socks and rumbling stomachs.

Shooing away pigeons, they eat Taco Bell on rickety picnic tables, find a motel after dinner, Kyungsoo insisting on bringing his sleeping bag out and laying it over the bleach-white sheets, it’s dirty, Lu Han, how many people have had sex right here, Lu Han relenting after a tense 2 minute argument because it works in his favor anyway, not sharing his bed with Kyungsoo.

 

The next morning, the second day, they rise at 8 am, shower, eat McDonald’s breakfasts in Lu Han’s car, drive to Malibu. They allow themselves a few minutes to wander the ritzy streets, a few hours to admire the beach. Lu Han laughs—his ugly goat laugh, Kyungsoo informs him primly—as Kyungsoo chases after their beach towel, stumbles clumsily into the sand with a squawk.

They eat $2 slices of pizza, folded in half, messy and fast, buy ice cream afterwards—Kyungsoo chocolate to Lu Han's strawberry. Kyungsoo toasts to their futures with a flourishing wave of his waffle cone and he grimaces before reaching out to brush sand off the bottom of Lu Han's, chiding him for his messiness.

 

At the caves, the briny air stinging his sensitive eyes, tickling his skin, Lu Han shudders, allows himself to feel. There's something comforting about it, being surrounded on all sides, an almost hug, the earth steady and solid beneath him, above him, and all around him. He feels small like this, held like this. Kyungsoo exhales softly beside him, and the walls seem to expand, tighten in the most comforting way. He finds himself smiling as Kyungsoo blinks up at the stalactites with reverent whisper.

Lu Han's fingers drag over the jagged rocks, steadying himself, and they watch the sunset like that, Kyungsoo tugging out his camera as the horizon flashes pink, purple, golden with the sun's fading light. Lu Han finds himself bending forward at one moment, arms wrapping hesitantly around Kyungsoo's waist, chin resting on his shoulder. Kyungsoo tenses but doesn't make to slither away, melts into it after 2 breaths.

 

They eat street tacos in the parking lot afterwards, 4 cabezas each. They share a Big Gulp Coke, too, and Kyungsoo manages to guilt Lu Han into buying him a jelly donut from a cafe.

Lu Han finds a hostel as they weave through the streets, and they share a bunk bed, Kyungsoo top to Lu Han's bottom. Kyungsoo is less hesitant about sleeping on these sheets, but he still shifts restlessly through the night, inhales deeply half a dozen times as if deciding whether to start a conversation.

Lu Han, silent, pretends to sleep.

 

It's a longer drive the third morning, and Lu Han prepares with a bitter McCafe, an extra order of hashbrowns with his breakfast. Anticipating the sore ass that this will trip will necessitate, Lu Han insists on eating in the restaurant this day, and Kyungsoo, beholden to him, begrudgingly agrees.

Sleepy Kyungsoo is messier, less guarded, and Lu Han relishes in the rare opportunity to tease him back, reaching out to rub affectionately at the ketchup smeared near his mouth, the maple syrup on his wrists. Kyungsoo only squints in response, asks Lu Han to re-button his polo, it's crooked.

Kyungsoo stays awake through the entirety of this trip, and Lu Han keep the radio on, tapping absently along, and pointedly ignoring the telltale signs of a Kyungsoo that wants to talk. Kyungsoo sings after along to the radio after a while, some top 40 song about longing, loving, regretting, his voice ringing loud and clear over the static of the radio.

The highway stretches ahead of them, black and vast and imposing, the repetitiveness lulling Lu Han into a lazy, pleasant stupor, as he syncs his breaths with Kyungsoo’s.

 

Lunch is eaten in a restaurant, too, in some nondescript burger place a couple dozen exits in. The bacon cheeseburger is greasy, the milkshake creamy, and Kyungsoo agrees to share an order of hash fries with him.

The sun is already afternoon-bright by the time they park their car, Kyungsoo paying the visiting fee with two crumpled bills.

"This one will be more trying," Lu Han notes as he parks, notes even though Kyungsoo had picked this destination, even though Kyungsoo knows already. Lu Han continues, informs him—unnecessarily—that the hike is longer, the trek more difficult, Kyungsoo will have to keep up, can't hold Lu Han back this time. And Kyungsoo hefts a granola bar in his direction for the comment. His aim perfect, and Kyungsoo chuckles as Lu Han flinches too late, grumbles in indignation as the bar collides his with cheek.

They are assigned a tour guide, and it _is_ more difficult. Lu Han's muscles stretch, protest, strain, adrenaline coursing through his veins as sweat trickles down his back. His heart is racing, pulse pounding painfully in his ears, and he can taste the cave's ancient dampness on every shaky inhale.

The Crystal Cave in Sequoia National Park, it's one of the best, Kyungsoo's research had found, but honestly, the pictures hadn't done it justice.

The rock face is golden, irregular, jagged, and all the more beautiful. And Lu Han shivers, equal parts cold and utterly overwhelmed, utterly dwarfed as he loses himself briefly in the seemingly endless stretches of marble. Beyond it, there are only endless, endless fathoms of chilling blackness, where light goes to die.

And oh, the sea cave, it hadn't properly prepared him for this, noting really could have, though.

Lu Han's entire sense of self seems to fold smaller and smaller as he continues to stare, numb to nearly everything but this, a total vacuum of sound, of existence, only the steady drum of his own pulse, his own breathing—Kyungsoo's if he listens hard enough. Equal part thrilling and terrifying.

And it's Kyungsoo’s hand—laced with his own—that drags Lu Han back to reality, more grounding than the flashes of their flashlights, the tour guide’s soothing voice.

The light hurts afterwards, too bright, too powerful, and Lu Han braces himself on the cave wall, the stone smooth beneath his palm, smoothed by countless other palms before him.

They eat a dinner of gas station hot dogs, generic brand beverages on the plaid comforter of their motel's twin comforters that night, watch 90's sitcoms and infomercials until they both pass out.

 

The drive, on the fourth day, is another 4 hours to the Moaning Cavern, threadbare breakfast on the road, Kyungsoo snoozing periodically, waking up to demand lunch at 2PM. He stays awake afterwards, hums along to the R&B song on the radio, keeps beat with the tap of his fingers on the plastic lid of his Styrofoam cup.

And this cave, it also overwhelms him.

Even grounded on the concrete steps, supporting his weight on the iron railing—man-made, for man’s convenience—Lu Han feels that same tightness in his chest, connected with nature, surrounded on all sides by it. Severe, sharp, soothing nonetheless.

It’s another test of endurance, heavy exertion, Lu Han breathless and near trembling by the time they reach the summit of the spiral staircase. It’s too high up, even then seems to go on and and on and on, the weak shine of their flashlights glittering gold and eery off the jagged formations, the shadows cast looming and dangerous. Lu Han valiantly presses forward, and Kyungsoo holds his hand, tight and comforting as the perky tour guide rattles off information about chemical composition, water erosion.

Lu Han nearly cries, inexplicably, helplessly, as he blinks up at the overwhelming light of fading afternoon when they finally emerge. Kyungsoo doesn’t point it out. Neither, for that matter, does their tour guide.

And dinner that night is eaten on the road, Kyungsoo chiding him halfheartedly for getting mayonnaise and lettuce—on his own fucking car, Kyungsoo, this is his own fucking car—before dozing off again.

They find a motel, a double bed. Lu Han falls asleep with Kyungsoo curled distressingly close.

 

The fifth day, they eat diner omelets for breakfast, buy sandwich bread, peanut butter, jelly, and juice boxes at the gas station then make the hour drive to Yosemite National Park. They arrive just as the day is warming. Parking his car, peeking up from beneath the bill of his visor at the large, large trees, Lu Han remembers his first trip to Big Bear with his family at 8, when he was still too shy to even think of joining Boy Scouts. He remembers feeling overwhelmed at the looming trees, the stretches of green so high and so heavy that he had trouble breathing. Terrifying, but also the most distinct exhilaration.

It's duller now, that feeling, but still nearly knee-buckling in its potency. Kyungsoo steady at his side, Lu Han wanders the meandering path, counting steps in between exertion-heavy breaths.

It takes them a good hour and a half, sweating, panting, but smiling to reach a clearing.

The water is so much clearer here, almost blindingly so, and Kyungsoo squints out into the horizon, his shoulder against Lu Han's, quiet and rapt. He's in awe, too, breathless with reverence, too. Probably has been those other times, but Lu Han hasn't been able to see it as clearly.

And yes, Lu Han thinks breathlessly, Kyungsoo understands this, understands how much this means and how quiet and still life feels staring out onto the severe beauty of nature.

On instinct, without quite realizing, Lu Han reaches out to take Kyungsoo’s hand in his, fingers threading automatically. The gesture isn't borne of fear this time, but of something large and unknown and tingle-inducing, something maybe like intimacy, something maybe like want.

Lu Han squeezes hard, and Kyungsoo lets him.

They eat their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on the site, stop at another gas station to buy _honestly overpriced, Kyungsoo, fuck this is highway robbery_ ham and cheese and mayonnaise so they can use the rest of their bread.

This motel has complimentary cable, and Kyungsoo slides beside him on their queen mattress to watch the Law and Order: SVU marathon, murmuring guesses about the criminal in between chews.

 

Lake Shasta Cave is the sixth day, a blur. Another tour guide, a man this time, the smell of old, old earth, older water, Kyungsoo’s hand solid and comforting as Lu Han cries again, quiet and helpless again. Kyungsoo is once more silent on the matter at dinner, at the grocery store as they shop for supplies, in their twin bunks that night.

Lu Han turns over after Kyungsoo’s fallen asleep to regard his face in the streetlight’s harsh glow. Tomorrow, it’s their last day.

 

Lava Beds is his very last stop, and they depart early, reserve a campground. Kyungsoo sets up the tent as Lu Han fishes for flashlights, his old bicycle helmets, pausing only the slightest at Kyungsoo's large black luggage.

"We can try—try a more challenging cave the next time we come," Lu Han decides, voice oddly breathy, chest oddly tight as he squints at their brochure. Kyungsoo nods absently. "Together," Lu Han adds, unnecessarily. And Kyungsoo hums, absent again as he lays out their sleeping bags.

The future still undecided, they explore at least this cave together, moderately difficult, their flashlights in tow.

Together, in the dark with Kyungsoo, Lu Han allows himself to feel overcome once more, allows his chest to fill to bursting, his skin to raise with goosebumps, ears ringing with the haunting echos of crunching gravel,dripping water, disembodied scrapes, bated breath.

It feels like an embrace still somehow, the earth’s soothing hold.

The lava tubes are smoother, a softer beauty to the rugged landscape, but Lu Han's palm still scrape over the occasional jagged edge, and his breath still comes short, muscles aching by the time they're finished.

He doesn't cry this time, but he gropes for Kyungsoo, nonetheless, fingers still threaded as they make their way back to camp.

They grill meat, warm tortillas, eat straight from the grill, sitting on the sanded rock of seat as they drink pink lemonade straight from the juice box.

Thigh to thigh, they watch the sun go down, and Kyungsoo talks—more than he has a long time—about his plans in Seattle, his nerves, admits a little ruefully that he'll miss Lu Han as he squints into the darkening horizon.

And Kyungsoo doesn't touch much, doesn't like to be touched much either. Lu Han learned long ago to let him come of his own volition, never force anything between them, but even then even knowing, he swipes his fingers on his pants then still braves one slow, slow—bold, breathless—glide of his fingers down Kyungsoo's cheek. And Kyungsoo turns, blinks but smiles in it, cheek curling beneath Lu Han’s palm, none of his usual temerity. And Lu Han, emboldened by the surealness of it maybe, or trying to make the most of the rare opportunity, lets his palm drag, his fingers linger, caressing over the sharp cut of Kyungsoo's jawline, over the smooth column of Kyungsoo's throat, fingers tracing with something like reverence, maybe almost memorizing.

Kyungsoo, just slightly tense but seemingly unperturbed, continues to talk through the touch, until Lu Han mollified in some strange, strange way, drops his fingers, speaks, too.

They reminisce about the past 4 years: study sessions, first dates, embarrassing injuries, awkward small talk with each other's one-night-stands, whimsical late night trips to Denny's in their PJs. Kyungsoo’s been a sort of soothing quietude, a steady presence, and Lu Han will miss this awfully, will ache from how hard he misses. He'll miss him, and it won't ever quite be the same, he knows. This easy thing they have, anything that it might someday be, it's ending very, very soon.

Lu Han tilts his head back, swallowing hard with the sharp, painful reminder, realization, as Kyungsoo laughs around the memory of Lu Han's sophomore year undie run, how he'd fallen 100 feet in and had to limp back to the dorm room for Bandaids before sprinting away once more in his Iron Man boxers.

Lu Han laughs, too, staring up at the darkening sky, watching the slow, slow way the stars seems to unfurl against the inky horizon.

It's hard to see the stars in Los Angeles, harder yet in his family's ancestral Beijing, but they're so bright here, almost blinding, twinkling demandingly, stark and bold and beautiful as night falls around them. In his periphery, the moonlight reflects off the corner of Kyungsoo's soft cheek, his soft lips.

The conversation dies as they both stare up at the sky, and neither makes to revive it, both silent and pensive. And they work like this, probably wouldn't work any other way, but Lu Han still finds himself wanting to try, allows himself to want more if only for this moment, if only for the sake of the goodbye they'll being saying tomorrow.

This moment is awful, pregnant and heavy and potent, a raw breathlessness that precedes confession.

And because he fucking knows, of course, Kyungsoo can read him and knows, he reaches out to take his hand. Small, delicate, but still somehow so strong. His thumb drags absently over Lu Han's knuckles.

And Lu Han loses his nerve, berates himself for lacking the courage, the reckless _want_. He glances once more at the sky, syncs his breath with Kyungsoo's, fingers tugging free as he slumps to scrape over the cool ground.

There's something decidedly soothing about this, feeling the earth beneath his palms, connected in some ancient way to the ground beneath him, staring out towards expanses of untouched beauty, harsh, harsh beauty, free of concrete, free of human intervention. He feels dizzyingly tiny like this, insignificant before the limitless sky, the knowledge of his utter insignificance stealing his breath as it settles in his bones. Kyungsoo is steady, solid at his side, like he has been through the entirety of this adventure, through the majority of the last 4 years.

It's another tacit agreement that has them clearing off the table, stumbling towards their tent. Lu Han pauses at the zippered entrance as Kyungsoo lurches forward, falling, laughing. Lu Han's bracing himself maybe, breathing past the sudden heavy jolt of want, potent but not quite reckless, not quite courageous enough.

They are side by side in that tent, pressed tight, and there's the briefest ruffle of vinyl, Kyungsoo's sleepy-soft, sleep-heavy breath near Lu Han's shoulder, Kyungsoo's gentle murmur of a "good night."

There’s a finality in this last night, and it doesn’t escape Lu Han, the moment, this exchange laden with meaning as he turns to face Kyungsoo in the darkness.

Lu Han, he's one of the few people that Kyungsoo has let in, one of the few he's trusted enough for that, one of the few with whom he could comfortably coexist, and that's ending—really, really ending—tonight. After this, Kyungsoo will go up towards Seattle, and Lu Han will go back down to Los Angeles. And they’ll have to find reasons to talk, to meet, to maybe occasionally touch, to understand one another in this quiet, steady, natural way, want—at least Lu Han wants—in this secret, half-formed way.

Lu Han can't make him out like this quite yet, eyes still adjusting, but he's still so painfully aware of his presence, just a breath, an intent-heavy touch away.

There's only the thinnest vinyl separating from the fathoms of space above him, and Lu Han is hyperware of the crushing vastness of that, too, but vaster yet are the words he’s still not quite sure he should say, still not sure he even can even piece together enough to say.

His heart is full, his skin tight, eyes searching for him, and he swallows the heavy lump in his throat, gaze dropping to Kyungsoo's lips, his eyes drawn and unable to look away, try as he might. And oh, how he tries.

He reaches out, fingers clumsy but wanting in the darkness, and Kyungsoo maybe gasps, but presses back, eyelashes fluttering rapidly against Lu Han's wrist.

Reckless, reckless enough, Lu Han shuffles closer, lips also clumsy but wanting, grazing. Kyungsoo does gasp this time, audibly so, but presses back once more.

Lu Han's head spins as he moans into the kiss, and Kyungsoo's plush, perfect lips part just slightly, opening and closing once, twice, as he tilts to right the angle. And oh this is perfection, small fingers weaving through the strands of hair at the base of his skull, cradling there, Kyungsoo parting his lips just just enough for Lu Han to get a taste. Want another. Want to drown in it.

Lu Han moans again, louder, fingers sliding to mold into the skin at the nape of Kyungsoo's neck, and Kyungsoo surges forward with a wanting sound, vinyl protesting as he moves, his sleepingbagged-knee knocking against Lu Han's shin in his sudden urgency to press tighter, harder. Lu Han’s dizzy on the warm wetness of his mouth, the quiet, quiet moan Kyungsoo releases into Lu Han's mouth. Quiet, hesitant, understated like everything about him, even as he tugs harder at Lu Han's hair, presses tighter against his trembling body, plumbs the depths of Lu Han's mouth with a hot enthusiasm that leaves Lu Han breathless.

Lu Han doesn't ever want to stop, but he does when Kyungsoo pulls away to breath against his neck, labored, hot, wet. Lu Han shudders, automatically arching for more even as Kyungsoo pants his name in something like a warning. Still, still holding him, still kissing him, not quite stopping, but slowing it down into something lazy, light, the hot tension bleeding out of Lu Han with every slow, soft press. Thrumming with affection, kissing back, cradling Kyungsoo's face in between his palms, Lu Han manages to fall asleep like that in between kiss 20 and 22, melting fully into Kyungsoo's embrace.

 

There's another tacit sort of agreement the next morning, neither mentioning it as they extricate themselves from each other's arms, load the car, eat breakfast burritos, make it to the border then drive past it.

They fill the silence with other topics. Safe topics: Kyungsoo's shopping list, his new roommate, Lu Han's useless liberal arts degree, his plans to study for the CBEST, get his substitute teaching license in between Netflix marathons on his parents' couch.

And Lu Han does hug him at the Greyhound station, braving the touch after he helps Kyungsoo get his bag. He squeezes tight, inhales deeply, even holds his hand as he pulls away, and Kyungsoo's smile is soft, sad as he cradles Lu Han's fingers in his hand, squeezes once.

Kyungsoo for the first time in a long time—two years at the very least—he looks near tears, plush lips trembling, eyes glittering in the pale morning light.

And Lu Han remembers when Kyungsoo had first cried in front of him, entirely by accident and awfully embarrassed. He'd failed his first test, and his mother had asked how he'd done, and he didn't normally cry, okay, but he just—Lu Han hadn't been meant to see it.

Lu Han isn't meant to see it here now either, that maybe-tear glittering at the corner of Kyungsoo's eyelashes, but it provides an odd sort of comfort, Kyungsoo's vulnerability, Kyungsoo's open emotions, though there are still no words.

"I'm gonna—" Lu Han starts, stops, and Kyungsoo smiles again, sadder now, that maybe-tear sliding down his curled cheek.

"A more difficult cave," Kyungsoo says, squeezing Lu Han's hand even tighter, almost painful. "I—during a holiday weekend. We can try a more difficult cave, right? Maybe—have another road trip?"

Lu Han nods, throat tight, chest even tighter, and Kyungsoo smile widens, real, bright, dazzling, in spite of the more maybe-tears sliding down his cheeks.

"Perfect," he says, his voice thick with emotion, another quiet affection in the way he fixes Lu Han's collar before turning away.


End file.
